


I killed someone for you

by MrPiano_Man



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: And rape, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, but there is murder, dont come after me pls, rated teen and up because its not that graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrPiano_Man/pseuds/MrPiano_Man
Summary: It's Beverly's 16th birthday and she spends some tie with her friends before it becomes the worst night of her life





	I killed someone for you

It was cold and wet that sickening dark night. Walking down the street a clearly disheveled girl barely there. The day leading up to it didn’t seem so bad. It started with a party, a birthday party. The bowling alley was far from busy, and the only people there were the losers, but that was fine, that’s how Beverly liked it. They all dawned birthday hats and had a table lined up with poorly wrapped presents all addressed to the redhead. The poorly made cake with “16” written on it, courtesy of Richie himself. “Yeah well I baked it with blood sweat and other things,” he said with a wink as he set it down. While the boys didn’t trust it at first Beverly gladly took a piece before scrunching her nose. Not sure she’d ever eaten a cake as salty as this one was before. The night was a long one and it didn’t matter because they were having fun. While most of them were fighting over the jukebox Beverly stood back marveling at the great friends she had, she loved each and every one of them.  
“Hey, so I have another present for you,” she looked beside her to see Stan standing there, his hair a mess as usual but even more so from the number of times Richie had rubbed his head during the bowling.  
“Oh Stan you really don’t have to-“  
“But I want to.” He smiled at her pulling out a small box and giving it to her. The wrapping wasn’t like the others, it looked perfectly wrapped with a bow tied on it. Beverly set down her punch and proceeded to open it, the others were still deciding more music for the night, and it felt as if they were in a world of their own for a moment. Inside the small box was a necklace, handmade from the looks of it with a skeleton key attached with a heart on the base. She smiled up at him a moment, before putting the necklace on.  
“Thank you, Stanley.”  
“So, wherever you are you’ll always have a key to my heart.” Sometimes Stan was so sappy that it made her feel so special because for once she was special to people but it was something else with Stan. He kissed her forehead and she laughed. “Mushy there Stanley,” she rubbed his shoulder, and this was how she liked it, surrounded by her favorite people.  
When the night came to a close since the bowling alley was closing, they went their separate ways sending Beverly home with her presents. In the apartment, she set them down on her floor and plopping down on her bed with a sigh. Everything about it had been so perfect. So perfect she had forgotten one thing, something so important.  
As heavy footsteps came down the dark hall she could faintly smell the alcohol drifting in the air, something that made her chest go tight, she couldn’t let today end with bruises, the thought of him hitting her went shivers down her spine but she couldn’t possibly have imagined the truth. Not today, not on her birthday.

The rain poured down on her as she walked, her eyes not completely looking anywhere in particular and her feet just taking her where they could from memory. She held her sides gingerly, and couldn’t forget the events. It happened all too quick but felt like it dragged on. He was so heavy, so forceful and she didn’t stand a chance in the dark of her room, she could still feel his hands pawing at her, still felt his whiskey breath heavily fogging around her. On the street, she felt so dirty, so different. She stopped at a light post and threw up, emptying the cake and snacks from her stomach that she had consumed earlier on. Before she knew it she was in front of a door, knocking gently.  
The door opened, “Hello? Beverly?” His groggy voice ran through her head and her eyes barely met his. It only took him a moment to realize her state and pulled her inside, “it’s raining out you could get a cold.” She sniffled and the bruise on her cheek only starting to come in but the rest of her looked as if she’d been in a fight. “What happened?” He asked, pulling the hair from her face and she only wept.

  
Soon enough he was running the shower for her, glad his parents were out of town for the weekend. They sat in the tub together and Stan didn’t mind getting his pajamas soaked, he held her close while she cried, only after a while did she tell him what had happened, Stan left the shower, undressing outside of it to throw his now drenched clothes in the laundry. He went and changed, coming back to see she had taken hers off in the shower as well, they sat outside and he set clean pajamas on the sink for her while he stuck the sopping clothes in the wash.

  
He could feel his blood boiling at what she had told him, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty, maybe she shouldn’t have gone home alone, she could have stayed the night at his house. He heard the water shut off snapping him from his thoughts. Peeking into the doorway to his room she had moved there and was putting the clothes on, however, her frame was bare for a moment, how long it took him to notice that she had scrubbed her skin so hard it was red, in some places bleeding from her scrubbing. Once she dressed he entered the room again, “you can’t go back, Beverly. You’ll stay here tonight and we can figure it out tomorrow.” He said walking to her and holding her in his arms gingerly. He could feel the gentle shake of her shoulders as she cried a little more. There wasn’t a time he could think of where he’d seen her even remotely this close to falling apart. She wasn’t Beverly anymore but more of a shell, as if the little girl she had been before slipped away with the harsh current.

  
The buzzing from his television was the only sound filling the room with them both quietly laying in his bed, on opposite sides, Stanley not daring to touch her and upset her further. Just before drifting to sleep she rolled towards him placing her hand on his chest, over his heart and felt it beating as she finally made her way to sleep feeling peaceful in the quiet room, feeling protected even by the boy next to her.

  
The saying goes that ‘the city never sleeps’ but a small town like Derry certainly does. Unable to sleep Stan slowly left the bed there wasn’t much light but he could still see Beverly’s silhouette unmoved by his departure. Quietly he went to his closet, and without hesitation changed into some old clothes he had, a long sleeve and long pants. He then put on a hat to cover his hair and shoved the leather gloves he had from years ago into his pocket, knowing they wouldn’t quite fit right anymore. With that, he looked back at her for a moment and left. Walking down the street it was still pouring, but he didn’t mind. Really Stan didn’t even notice, he had his mind on other things.  
It was all blurry to him, but this time it wasn’t a scenario, and it wasn’t for him. It was for her, for Beverly. Of course, he couldn’t say he didn’t already have things planned out, situations, scenarios. For years he’d had these dark thoughts but only to those who had hurt him. He had sustained countless bruises, black eyes, even a broken bone and all he had were his thoughts. With thoughts swirling in his head a glint caught his eyes in the rain. Stan looked over in the yard to something shimmering in the faint moonlight. Stan took a moment and put his gloves on, giving a nod mentally to himself and walking into the yard. He picked up a metal bat which from the looks of it, was somewhat beaten up already. He looked it over for a moment deciding if it would do before continuing to walk down the street with it. If anyone had been awake they’d think he was going to vandalize things, but with every light out and not a noise except the rain, the likelihood of someone seeing him was close to zero. When he approached the apartment buildings it was a familiar sight, a place he’d been many times before. He could probably even count the number of stairs until you’d reach her floor. The memories didn’t stir his expression however, he didn’t even feel cold from the rain; it was like he felt nothing at all.

  
The door to the apartment was unlocked, probably from when Beverly left. Alvin was probably already asleep by the time she left and it wasn’t likely he’d wake anytime soon. The apartment was quiet except for the soft murmur of whatever was on the television. It was a straight shot from the door to the living room and Stan could see his outline from the glow. Promptly he shut the door quietly and walked forward. For a moment he just stared at the sleeping man who seemed a little too peaceful which made Stan wrinkle his nose in disgust. He didn’t feel bad for what he was about to do and knew he deserved it. With a deep breath, he raised the bat, one hit strong enough would wake him but leave him unable to stand, if it was too weak Stan wouldn’t stand a chance.

It was just as he predicted, he hit hard enough to make a sickening sound, but when the man opened his eyes he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He kept swinging leaving the man bloodier each swing and even after he couldn’t possibly be breathing anymore the tears in Stans' eyes blurred his vision of the mush he was making. When he finally finished, he was breathing heavily and with that he left the apartment, dropping the bat off in a different yard with the dents he’d put in it, the rain washing away part of the thick blood on its shiny surface, along with the blood on Stan’s face. The walk home was a long one but he didn’t mind as he zagged through the neighborhoods making sure no blood trailed him anymore when he finally headed towards his house.

  
When he got back home he shrugged off his wet clothes into a pile, looking towards his bed at the still slumbering girl. He put his pajamas back on before crawling back into his bed, the movement of the bed caused Beverly to move closer to him, once again placing her hand on his chest. This felt fine, warm, safe. Stan couldn’t help but think about how much better her life will be now without that monster, but along with that thought. Maybe she would be better off without him as well because out of everything in the night, the rush felt amazing and he craved it.


End file.
